


Last Breath

by Starlit_Night_67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalyptic Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4909123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlit_Night_67/pseuds/Starlit_Night_67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wondered what had he done wrong. The land was surrounded by hell-fire, licking trails on the salted ground. The sky was red, the clouds poisonous, and the Earth run over by demons. Dean had returned from Hell – scratch that. Dean never left Hell in the first place. Sam ripped Dean's heart right out of his chest, leaving him a hollow shell of his former self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Breath

Looking at the brunette Dean Winchester wondered what had he done wrong.

Dean had practically raised the kid since he was four, leading him on the right path. It had always been that way; Sam, being the younger sibling looked up to Dean, who did his best to help his little brother live a happy, normal life that Dean never had the privilege to lead. Dean was the fighter, and Sam the geeky boy who did the research.

The land was surrounded by hell-fire, beautiful and dark at the same time, licking trails of black fire with golden highlights on the salted ground. The sky was red, the clouds poisonous, and the Earth run over by demons. Distantly, Dean could hear the desperate cries of humans as the demons tortured them mercilessly.

Dean had returned from Hell – scratch that. Dean never left Hell in the first place. The only difference was there was no Sam in Purgatory.

But there was Sam on Earth. Who apparently ripped Dean's heart right out of his chest, leaving him a hollow shell of his former passionate self.

In fact, Dean didn't care for much now. He would gladly embrace death like an old friend if the need arose. He didn't care for anything – Except Sam, always Sam, his little brother who he loved.

Yellow-Hazel eyes stared back at Dean, the latter began humming the tune of a song he'd heard long ago:

_Don't cry to me,_

_If you loved me,_

_You would be here with me._

_You want me?_

_Come find me._

_Make up your mind._

Dean heard another sickening squelch of a demon feasting on a human and with his pleaded with his baby boy with his eyes. But the other Winchester just smiled cruelly in response.

_Should I let you fall?_

_Lose it all?_

_So maybe you can remember yourself._

_Can't keep believing,_

_We're only deceiving,_

_Ourselves,_

_And I'm sick of the lie._

Dean heard another thud of a limp body thrown to the ground and his nerves steeled.

_And you're too late._

An icy coldness washed over the oldest living Winchester, and sealed the deal with Michael. Dean Winchester could slowly feel his grasp on his body slip as the Archangel took over it, just like Lucifer had for Sam.

_Don't cry to me,_

_If you loved me,_

_You would be here with me._

_You want me?_

_Come find me._

_Make up your mind._

And as archangel fought with archangel, Dean figured he had more time to his thoughts. Unlike Sam, who was partly in control.

That's what made it more painful. Sam was destroying the world  _of his own accord._  But once again, the question remained:  _why?_ Dean suspected it had something to do with him, but what? What had done to make his little baby boy, his Sammy to become a demon?

What had Dean done for Sam to willingly give himself to the Devil to be his meat-suit? What had he done to put his little baby brother in the deep end?

_Couldn't take the blame,_

_Sick with shame._

_Must be exhausting to lose your own game._

_Selfishly hated,_

_No wonder you're jaded._

_You can't play the victim this time._

The completion of the Apocalypse was a strand away from Sam's reach. But why did his little brother do it?  _Why?_ Dean asked himself.  _Why did Sammy do this?_

Why did he willingly give himself to Lucifer?

_And you're too late._

_Sammy,_ Dean thought, an imaginary silver tear slipping from his beautiful green eyes.  _I'm sorry, baby boy. I'm so sorry._

Dean wished he could turn back time. That he had chronokinesis.

Maybe then this wouldn't have happened.

_Don't cry to me,_

_If you loved me,_

_You would be here with me._

_You want me?_

_Come find me._

_Make up your mind._

Dean had never wanted the situation to come down to this. He never wanted to become Michael's body bag. Even when God and Michael themselves had pleaded, Dean refused.

But one look at Sam's new condition brought him crumbling. Stripping the defences he built to avoid the angels' temptations.

_You never call me you're sober._

_You only want it 'cause its over_

_Oh, it's over._

Dean finally understood the meaning of 'Ugly Truth'.

 _Ain't that the truth?_ Dean Winchester thought in sardonic amusement. He wished Sammy wouldn't have done this. Maybe, just maybe, they'd be regular hunters instead of the spotlight of this Supernatural mess.

_How, could I,_

_Have burned paradise?_

_How could I?_

_When you were never mine?_

The sharp shards of betrayal stabbed Dean's heart when he could not think of a way to justify his little brother's actions. Guilt twisted his heart, and suddenly, Dean thought of Sam's hazel eyes look at him in anger.

_Don't cry to me,_

_If you loved me,_

_You would be here with me._

_Don't lie to me._

_Just get your things._

_I've made up your mind._

Dean found himself seeing through his green eyes once more as Michael lifted his blade, snarling, "Finally,  _Finally,_ I shall have the revenge I desire, Lucifer."

Michael's little brother grinned triumphantly at him using Sam's body, his fangs out and yellow eyes glowing, "If I'm going down big brother, so are you."

 _'If I'm going down big brother, so are you.'_ The words echoed continuously in Dean Winchester's ears.

Michael brought the blade down.

And suddenly, Dean was back in his body. He jerked his arm off and saw Sam smirking darkly at him.

"What's the matter big brother?" Sam taunted him. "Haven't got the juice? The stomach to kill me?"

Dean looked at him pleadingly, searching for something of Sam.  _Anything_  that could tell Dean that he was there. That spark that made Sam  _Sam._

Dean didn't find it.

He put the knife in his little brother's hand and spread his arms. "I will not kill you Sammy, do what you must."

Dean could feel Michael trying to get back in his body, but Dean would have none of it, instead focusing on the grinning Sam in front of him.

"As you wish." Sam said darkly, yellow eyes flashing.

The blade in his hands – Dean's favorite, precious knife – hit home.

His brother slumped in his hands, blood pooling around him and leaking onto Sam's hands.

That's when the gravity of the situation hit Sam.

Tears fell from his now completely hazel eyes as he saw his brother's green eyes  _– that used to be so vibrant, so passionate, so expressive,_  Sam thought – staring up lifelessly at him, like marbles. His brother's blonde hair was darkened and matted with sweat and Sam could only feel regret for what he had done as his brother took his last breaths in Sam's arms.

"I'm sorry," it was merely a whisper that was lost in the cries of the perishing humans. "I'm so sorry Dean."

The only solace he had was that Dean would be in Heaven for his deeds.

But that didn't lessen the heart-wrenching guilt in Sam any less.

And it was marked on this day; the beginning of the Apocalypse and the murder of Earth's greatest hunter Dean Winchester at the hands of his younger brother, Samuel Winchester.

 


End file.
